


Peace in the Realm

by Rosawyn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Assassination, Betrayal, Blow Jobs, Courting Rituals, Exploration, Family Drama, Family Feels, Feudalism, First Kiss, First Time, Force-Sensitive CC-2224 | Cody, Forgiveness, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Imprisonment, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Intrigue, Jealousy, Loss of Powers, Love Bites, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, NaNoWriMo 2018, Nobility, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker are Siblings, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Oblivious Obi-Wan Kenobi, Protective Anakin Skywalker, Protective Qui-Gon Jinn, Relationship Negotiation, Royalty, Secret Marriage, Sharing a Bed, Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-28 03:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30133332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosawyn/pseuds/Rosawyn
Summary: When young Lord Anakin's elopement threatens the fragile peace of the entire kingdom, Lord Obi Wan and Prince Codex must find a way to prevent his impulsive decision from toppling everything into chaos.  With threats of war looming on their borders and petty nobles squabbling in Obi Wan's own duchy, things are feeling a lot less stable.  And that's all before the assassination.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 20
Kudos: 63





	1. As My Prince Commands

“Long, long ago,” Obi Wan began. And then, forestalling the interrupting question he'd come to expect of 'How long?', he added, “Back when dragons roamed the lands unchecked, and we humans had barely begun to figure out the wheel...two princes—twin brothers—were born. The firstborn the king and queen named Codex, and the second they named Rex.”

Boba giggled, shifting amongst the covers on his bed to sit up a bit further against the headboard. “Rex and Cody aren't _that_ old, Lord Obi Wan.” He rolled his eyes, the dark curls hanging loose about his face catching the candlelight as he moved. He wrinkled his nose a bit. “They're not even so old as _you_.”

“Oh, when _I_ was born,” Obi Wan countered, not quite successful at suppressing a grin, “humans hadn't yet worked out how to make our own _fire_.” At Boba's amused huff and eye-roll, Obi Wan insisted, “We had to wait until a dragon burned something, and then quickly grab up a burning stick.” Boba laughed, shaking his head. It was usually a good bet to include dragons of the fire-breathing variety if Obi Wan wanted to capture Boba's interest. “From there,” Obi Wan went on, “we'd be all right so long as we watched over it carefully and didn't let it burn out—and since we were so worried about keeping our fires going for light and heat and so we could cook, we hadn't had the time to even _begin_ to figure out the wheel.” He grinned, shifting to sit forward in the wooden chair at Boba's bedside. “And my _father_ was a dragon.”

Boba let out an amused huff. “Your father is Lord Qui Gon.”

Obi Wan blinked, feigning surprise. “And you don't believe he's a dragon?”

“Dragons have wings,” Boba pointed out.

“Not _all_ of them,” Obi Wan corrected. He shook his head in admonishment. “You remember your lessons don't you? Many dragons crawled about on land or swam in the water—and most of them didn't have wings.”

Boba rolled his eyes. “Only the boring ones don't have wings.” Sliding down to lie with his head and shoulders on his pillows, he regarded Obi Wan through narrowed eyes. “Besides, dragons breathe fire.”

Obi Wan chuckled. “You've never seen my father truly angry.”

Rolling his eyes again, Boba let out a huff. “If your father's a dragon, shouldn't you be one too?”

“Well,” Obi Wan said, “I'd only be half dragon, I think.”

One side of Boba's lips tipped upwards. “So you can't breathe fire.”

Obi Wan feigned a dispirited sigh. “Sadly, no.”

“You're terrible at telling bedtime stories,” Boba informed him.

Obi Wan shrugged. “I suppose that's also a talent I'm lacking. Along with fire-breathing.”

Boba rolled onto his side, grinning a bit. “Fire-breath would make you a lot more interesting. And useful.”

Nodding, Obi Wan adjusted the sleeves of his robe. “I suppose it would.” Standing, he prepared to blow out Boba's bedside candle. “Perhaps tomorrow night you should ask one of your brothers for a story.”

Wrinkling his nose, Boba protested, “They're even worse at it than you!”

One hand still on the gilded candleholder, Obi Wan turned his attention to Boba once again and raised his eyebrows. “So shall I be telling you a story again, perhaps?”

Boba sighed. “Maybe.” Obi Wan blew out the candle. Boba rolled onto his back in the darkness and added, “We'll see.”

“Very well,” Obi Wan said, footfalls quiet on the thick carpet as he headed to the door. “I'll await your command then.” Hand on the door, he turned back. “Good night, Prince Boba.”

Rolling back onto his side, Boba asked, “Should I still call you _Lord_ Obi Wan? My brothers don't, unless there are a lot of other people around.”

It was a fair question, and not one that Boba's protocol and etiquette lessons would properly cover, since those lessons almost entirely focused on those times with 'a lot of other people around'. “Well,” Obi Wan replied, turning his back to the door once again, “you could just call me 'Obi Wan' when we're informal like this.”

“Cody calls you 'Ben' sometimes,” Boba pointed out.

“That's much the same as calling Prince Codex 'Cody',” Obi Wan explained. “Or calling Lord Anakin 'Ani'.”

“Is _not_!” Boba countered with a disgusted huff. “'Cody' is _part_ of 'Codex', and 'Ani' is part of 'Anakin'—there's no 'Ben' in 'Obi Wan'.”

Ducking his head, Obi Wan chuckled. “I suppose you're right. But you'd have to take that grievance up with a much younger version of Cody; he started calling me 'Ben' when he was younger than you are now.”

“'When dragons still roamed the lands,'” Boba supplied with a grin in his voice, flopping back against the pillows.

“Yes,” Obi Wan agreed. “Things were quite different back then.”

“Anyway,” Boba said after a thoughtful pause. “I think it'd be fine if you just called me 'Boba'...when we're informal. And I'd call you 'Obi Wan'.” He sighed. “Being 'formal' is a lot of work sometimes—my father won't even let me call him 'papa' anymore; he says I have to say 'father' and when I'm of age, I'll have to say 'my king'.”

“King Jango does hold to formality,” Obi Wan agreed. Perhaps a little overmuch, but it wasn't Obi Wan's place to judge. Even if Cody and Rex both said 'my father' almost in hushed tones, as though they were afraid the king might overhear.

“Things will be different when Cody is king,” Boba commented, rolling onto his back again. He giggled a bit. “He'll probably still call you 'Ben'.”

“Do you think we'll call him 'King Cody'?” Obi Wan quipped.

Boba laughed. “He'd probably like that. 'King Cody'.” He shifted a bit, adjusting the blankets over his chest, then added, “But that won't be for a long time—my father will likely live until he's at least sixty. Maybe seventy or even older.”

“May the Force will it.” Obi Wan ducked his head. “And goodnight, again, Boba.”

“Goodnight, Obi Wan,” Boba replied, finally sounding a little sleepy.

Obi Wan quietly closed the door.

o0o

If Lord Qui Gon was truly a dragon, he would have been breathing fire. Most likely. Obi Wan winced slightly where he sat cross-legged in his chambers, selfishly relieved that Qui Gon's ire was directed at a target other than Obi Wan himself.

_I apologize_ , Qui Gon's voice echoed in Obi Wan's mind through their Force link. _I'm finding it difficult to achieve peace at the moment._

_I understand_ , Obi Wan replied. The situation was truly perplexing, and had Anakin been in front of him at the moment Obi Wan would have had to restrain himself from wringing the fool's neck. Barely of age, and he was already doing his level best to destabilize not only their family but the entire realm.

A surge of warm, wry affection flooded the link, and Qui Gon said, _Forgive me for ever chiding you for_ _ **not**_ _getting married._

Obi Wan smiled. _Of course, Father._ After a pause, _Is Mother well?_

_She's...upset, of course_ , Qui Gon replied. _Perhaps most so that she couldn't attend the wedding—she gets so few excuses to wear a formal gown._

That was a good point. Obi Wan himself might have enjoyed the opportunity to dress up and celebrate with his brother—had Anakin deigned to choose a suitable match, rather than sneaking off to elope with the actual reigning queen of a neighbouring land. And Padmé was indeed the reigning queen, never mind that both of her parents still lived—things were somewhat different in Naboo and a reigning queen could simply sign over the throne to her adult daughter and retire. But was Queen Mother Jobal perhaps regretting that decision now that her newly-crowned successor was off blithely eloping with the second son of a mere duke?

Her Prince Consort Ruwee had in fact once tried to negotiate a match between then Princess Padmé and Prince Rex, so surely the Naberrie family had been aiming for a more prestigious match than Obi Wan's idiot brother.

Suppressing a sigh, Obi Wan restrained himself from rubbing at his forehead—it was more important to maintain the meditation calm to keep the Force connection stable, so he released the frustration to the Force instead. He needed to get the important questions out of the way in case Qui Gon's emotional turmoil disrupted the link. _Should I come home?_

_No_ , came the immediate response. _I need you there for now. I know I don't have to tell_ _ **you**_ _, but it is more important than ever to do whatever you can to keep the peace._ Anakin no doubt deserved that touch of extra emphasis on the word 'you'.

On that note... _Should I attempt to contact Anakin?_

_By all means, you can_ _ **try**_ , Qui Gon replied. _He's been flat out ignoring me, refusing to respond. And I doubt it's the distance—you know how powerful he is in the Force._

_I do know_ , Obi Wan agreed with a hint of resignation. It really wasn't fair just how powerful Anakin was. The Masters at the Temple had always said it was just the way of the Force. Some were more powerful than others, and envy only led to the Dark. (It seemed almost always any natural inclination of a person 'led to the Dark', but the way of the Jedi was all trials and tests and self-denial. And while most never voiced it aloud, it was obvious that Obi Wan surpassed Anakin there at every turn.)

_You know I am proud of you_ , Qui Gon said, and Obi Wan's chest constricted with worry that too much of his current thoughts might have bled through the link.

_Thank you, Father._ Obi Wan smiled. _I do know._ For all Anakin was undeniably exceptional, he was also undeniably incorrigible, and Obi Wan had given up petulant desires to be his father's 'favourite' before Anakin was even out of diapers. It was not Qui Gon, after all, who'd poured never-before-seen levels of Force potential into that squalling infant. The connection faltered, and guilty horror twisted in Obi Wan's gut because he knew that was his own side of the link, not Qui Gon's.

_Are you all right?_ Qui Gon asked, worry sliding alongside his words.

_Yes, sorry_ , Obi Wan replied, trying his best to slip back into the proper meditation calm, despite his current anger apparently being directed at the Force itself.

_I understand_ , Qui Gon said after a pause. _The ways of the Force are often inscrutable to us._

Obi Wan grimaced slightly. For all his internal boasting about discipline, he wasn't quite so great at it after all if he was fumbling Force links with his own father at the mere distance of a day's ride. _I could do with a season of further study at the Temple, it would seem._

_Couldn't we all?_ Qui Gon agreed.

_But none of us have the time_ , Obi Wan replied.

_Not for a good while, from the looks of things_ , Qui Gon said. _Unfortunately._ After a pause, he added, _I will write the king when I find the words._

_Give my love to Mother_ , Obi Wan said. _I will also write her when I get the chance._ Because for all Shmi had managed to birth a child as powerful in the Force as Anakin, she'd never had a touch of it herself. It made communication somewhat difficult, as Jinn Manor was a full day's ride from Tipoca City.

_She'll look forward to your letter_ , Qui Gon replied, with a surge of warmth. And of course now Obi Wan had no choice but to write her, and soon. He allowed himself a small smile at the thought. Qui Gon added just before finally letting go of the link, _May the Force be with you, Obi Wan._

o0o

As urgent as the matter of Anakin's ill-advised elopement was, before addressing matters of state Obi Wan sat at his desk and made himself pen a warm and detailed letter to his mother. Quite honestly, if he didn't do it first, he might never manage to do it. Blast Anakin. Selfish brat. Just trust him to throw the whole _world_ into chaos the next time he was hit with a whim. Or his new bride crooked her finger.

“Obi Wan.” Cody jogged up to Obi Wan in the corridor and laid a hand on his arm. “Ben, are you all right?”

Obi Wan winced, catching the concern in Cody's eyes. “No—well, yes.” He let out a sigh, shoulders slumping a little. “But no.”

“You looked about to walk into a pillar,” Cody teased as he drew Obi Wan along the corridor, apparently to avoid just such an unfortunate eventuality by his expert guidance. “Was it you who sent that page scampering off in such a rush just now?”

Grimacing a bit, Obi Wan shrugged. “Probably—I did send a page to the courier just now. Letter to my mother.”

“Is she well?” Cody asked.

Obi Wan nodded. “Yes.” A frown flickered across his brow. “She—she's just—” He'd need a drink—preferably a strong one—and to sit down before even beginning to explain.

“I heard about what happened,” Cody said, guiding Obi Wan through a door—and apparently they were in the kitchens, the familiar warmth of cooking fires and bustling staff greeting him along with the pleasant smells of chopped herbs and simmering stew. Obi Wan may very well _have_ walked into a pillar without Cody's guidance for all he was paying attention to his surroundings. Cody pressed Obi Wan into a wooden chair near the fire. “About your brother, I mean.” Snagging a passing kitchen maid, he murmured some instructions that Obi Wan didn't quite catch. The maid nodded and scurried away. Turning back to Obi Wan, Cody grimaced. “What a mess.”

Obi Wan nodded. The kitchens really weren't the best place to discuss matters of politics. Apparently Cody had felt Obi Wan needed to sit down, though, and they'd been closer to the kitchens than Cody's office or either of their chambers. Obi Wan grimaced and cast an apologetic look up at Cody. “Was I really about to walk into a pillar?”

Cody grinned, laughing a bit. “It did appear a possible eventuality.”

“Sorry.” Obi Wan rubbed at his forehead.

“S'all right.” Cody clapped a hand on Obi Wan's shoulder. “I was looking for you anyway—we have plenty to talk about, once you get enough food and drink into you that you're less likely to fall down.”

“Oh.” Obi Wan chuckled. “So now I was about to fall down—was I going to do that before or after walking into the pillar?”

Giving Obi Wan's shoulder a squeeze, Cody flashed him a grin. “That was the only way you would have avoided the pillar!”

Snorting softly, Obi Wan shook his head. He allowed himself to take comfort in the familiar sense of Cody at his side. The nearness of Cody always felt like safety. At least Cody wasn't angry with him. Not that any of this was exactly Obi Wan's fault, but no doubt King Jango would cast blame far and wide.

A small table and a second chair appeared almost as though by magic as kitchen staff brought them and disappeared again so quickly. Next, food and drink upon the table, and Cody slid into the second seat and poured a cup of wine for Obi Wan before pouring one for himself. “We don't get to eat together as often as I'd like,” he commented as he tore open a roll and spread butter on it—then passed the roll to Obi Wan.

Accepting the roll, Obi Wan offered him a bemused smile. “Do I look like I can't take care of myself?”

“More so than usual,” Cody deadpanned and Obi Wan rolled his eyes. Cody's eyes narrowed a bit and he pointed at the food. “ _Eat_.”

“As my prince commands,” Obi Wan replied with another roll of his eyes. But he did eat.

o0o

“I hope the wine was strong enough,” Cody teased as he ushered Obi Wan into his office.

Obi Wan frowned. “I don't recall requesting strong wine.”

Closing the door quietly behind them, Cody walked over and sat on the couch, indicating that Obi Wan should join him. A page had preceded them, apparently, for a shiny teapot and two cups sat on the low table before the couch and steam escaping the spout tinged the air with the promise of soothing comfort. “I know you, Obi Wan,” Cody said as he poured tea into both cups. “I might not be able to pick up your thoughts with the Force like your father and brother can, but I know you well enough to know when you need a drink.” He gestured to the tea service as if it proved his point. Perhaps it did.

“Maybe you're reading my thoughts without knowing,” Obi Wan teased as he sat on the opposite end of the couch and took one of the cups in his hands. The warmth of the tea seeped into his fingers, very welcome after the inescapable drafts of the hallways. The scent of the tea teased his nose.

Cody shrugged, picking up the other cup. “I suppose there's no way to tell.” He took a careful sip of the tea. “But you know I spent just enough time at the Temple to discover my tiny spark of the Force was really just that tiny—and incapable of being fanned into anything more impressive.”

_You've always been impressive to me_ , Obi Wan thought very hard at Cody, but Cody didn't react. Not that Obi Wan expected him to. They'd spent many hours through the years trying to send and receive messages, but even with the two of them touching each other's temples or pressing their foreheads together they'd never been able to get it to work. It was a pity, because there were many times silent communication could have been useful between the two of them. “Is the king angry?” Obi Wan finally asked aloud.

“Not at _you_ ,” Cody quickly assured him, taking another sip of his tea. A wry grin tugged at his features. “He's so furious with Rex right now, I'm not sure he's got any energy left to be angry with anyone else.”

“Rex?” That was certainly unexpected. What did Rex have to do with any of this?

“Well...” Cody shifted a bit on the couch. “Apparently Rex knew Anakin's plans ahead of time and told no one.”

“Damn,” Obi Wan whispered. (Though perhaps the most amazing part of that was that Anakin had even known his own plans enough in advance to tell Rex. That Anakin in fact had 'plans' of any sort. Thinking ahead had never quite been Anakin's strong suit, after all.)

Cody nodded. “'Damn' is right.” He patted Obi Wan's knee. “But all understandable cursing aside, we need a plan to deal with this mess—the political implications for the entire kingdom are...rather weighty.”

“Because of the inheritance.” In lieu of a sigh, Obi Wan took a sip of his tea. It was very nice, wonderfully warm and refreshing all at once.

“Exactly.” Sighing deeply, Cody ran a hand back through his short black hair. “Because of Queen Padmé's much higher rank, all of the Skywalker lands which Anakin inherits through his mother could pass out of Kamino and become part of Naboo.” It was just one county, but still. No kingdom exactly had ambitions to shrink. Cody grimaced slightly. “Assuming they manage to produce an heir.”

“And no doubt that is exactly what Naboo wants.” Obi Wan rubbed at his forehead. Maybe this all had been Queen Mother Jobal's idea after all. Or it was at least quite possible she approved. This sort of politics always made Obi Wan's head hurt. He looked at Cody. “Is my brother's life in danger?”

“Not from my father.” Cody shook his head. “It's assumed Anakin and Padmé have already consummated their elopement, so assassinating him at this point would likely solve nothing as an heir may very well already be inevitable.” He offered Obi Wan a pained look. “If I had any indication otherwise, I would tell you.”

Obi Wan nodded. “Thank you.”

“You did...speak with your father?” Cody asked after a sip of tea. Obi Wan nodded, and Cody continued, “But not to your brother?”

“I have yet to attempt contact with him,” Obi Wan admitted. “He's refusing to respond to Lord Qui Gon.”

“Unsurprising,” Cody commented. A wry smile flickered across his face. “I'm sure if I'd just run off to marry secretly against all reason and judgment, I'd be avoiding my father as well.”

That was a fair point, and Obi Wan couldn't help smiling a little at the thought. Taking another sip of tea, Obi Wan regarded Cody for a moment. “Do you wish me to attempt to contact him?”

Sighing a bit, Cody looked into his tea. “Give him a day or two—at this point, he can't very well do more damage than he already has.”

Obi Wan let out a shaky breath, perhaps somewhat overly relieved that he didn't have to attempt another Force link that night. When Cody shot him a confused, concerned look, Obi Wan grimaced and explained, “I had some...difficulty with the link when communicating with my father.”

Cody took a sip of his tea, expression thoughtful. “Emotions can interfere, as I understand.”

Obi Wan made a face, hunching in on himself a bit. “It's usually not a problem for me.”

“Well.” Cody patted Obi Wan's knee again. “It's not every day your little brother elopes with a queen and sends the entire realm into chaos.”

Obi Wan took a sip of his tea and turned the cup thoughtfully in his fingertips. “True enough, I suppose.”

“One thing...” Cody began after a pause.

“Hmm?”

Cody regarded him steadily. “We were wondering if the Lady Skywalker would consider formally adopting you and—” He winced slightly. “Disinheriting Anakin.”

Obi Wan winced as well. He hadn't thought of that possibility, though it _would_ be one way to solve the problem at hand. “She wouldn't like it,” he finally admitted. “She does see me as her son,” he quickly amended. “And she's the only mother I've ever known. But I would never have asked that of her—I already have Kenobi; it only seems fair to let Anakin have Tatooine.”

“How are things in your county?” Cody asked, turning a little more towards Obi Wan.

“They go well,” Obi Wan replied. “Last I heard.”

Cody offered him an apologetic smile. “I think sometimes I'm too selfish, keeping you here, away from your lands, when you have no countess to run things in your absence.”

“I do have a steward,” Obi Wan pointed out. Lady Arfour saw more of Qui Gon than Obi Wan, but no doubt that worked out for the best, as the county of Kenobi much like that of Tatooine was within the duchy of Stewjon. At least for now. Damn Anakin again.

“What would any of us do without stewards?” Cody nodded, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he took a sip of his tea. “Speaking of counties within your father's lands...” Cody cradled his teacup in his hands as he regarded Obi wan. “Has your father mentioned any issues on that front?”

“Nothing...that's an issue yet,” Obi Wan replied.

Cody chuckled. “So he expects, as we do, to hear some noise from Taris shortly?”

“Not just Taris,” Obi Wan admitted. “Gorse Bendak isn't the only one with a weak claim on Tatooine who might see this as an opportunity to vie for power—there's also Cliegg Lars.”

“Shit,” Cody breathed, sitting up a little straighter. “Do you think they'd fight each other?”

Obi Wan sighed. He turned his teacup in his fingers. “It's a possibility. There has always been some rivalry between Taris and Jundland. And—consequently or as the cause—between the Bendak and Lars families.” The two counties bordered one another, which, logically or not, did often coincide with rivalry. Perhaps much like how on a larger scale Kamino and Naboo bordered one another and throughout recorded history and into the present continued to enjoy some level of ongoing rivalry.

A grimace danced across Cody's features. “I'm guessing letting either Bendak or Lars take a second county wouldn't be overly conducive to peace.”

“Likely not,” Obi Wan admitted. He drained the last of the tea and set the empty cup aside. “And honestly...Anakin will likely fight to keep what's his.”

Cody sighed, nodding. “I suppose it would be too much to ask that he be a happy little Prince Consort in Naboo for a few decades and leave Kamino alone.”

Obi Wan offered Cody a wry, tired smile. “Anakin's never been the sort to leave much of anything alone.”

“He's a bit like Rex,” Cody said, then frowned. “Or maybe Rex is like him.”

“Rex did come first,” Obi Wan pointed out.

“Yes, but Anakin's... _more_ ,” Cody countered with a laugh. Draining the last of his tea, Cody set the empty cup aside. “By the way, speaking of our brothers...” He caught the top of Obi Wan's thigh just behind the knee and gave it a squeeze. “I didn't tell you yet, did I? But I just discovered I have another brother.”

Obi Wan's mouth fell open. “You...what?”

“He just showed up at the castle, looking for a job.” Cody shook his head, patting Obi Wan's knee. “He's the same age as Rex and myself, maybe a little older, actually. But he looks _exactly_ like Rex.”

“You know,” Obi Wan reminded him, “you and Rex _are_ identical.”

“Yes, but he looks much more like Rex than he does like me!” Cody protested. He nudged Obi Wan's ankle with his foot. “Anyway, _you've_ never had any trouble telling me and Rex apart.”

“I think most of that is the Force.” Obi Wan ducked his head with a little shrug. “Your Force signatures aren't as similar as your faces.”

“You told me they were 'entirely different',” Cody reminded him. Which they were. All Force signatures were brilliantly unique and different from one another. A little like fingerprints or snowflakes, but without the necessity of close examination. “Anyway, you'll have to meet Appo—hopefully I'll have a chance to introduce you tomorrow. My father's already acknowledged him, by the way.”

“So that's how you know for sure he's your brother.” Obi Wan had sort of been wondering. An eerily similar doppelganger, while rare enough to raise plenty of suspicion, was still possible after all. “How did the queen take that?”

Cody shrugged. “Much...better than I would have expected. Apparently she was expecting it, knew about several affairs...” He heaved a sigh. “Honestly, it's much more than I ever would have liked to know about the details of my parents’ marriage—but so long as he wasn't technically 'cheating', I guess I can't be mad at him.”

That was true. Obi Wan frowned a little. It wouldn't even cause a real scandal so long as Queen Taun made it publicly known that she'd approved of her husband's extra-marital activities. “Will the king legitimize him?” Obi Wan wondered aloud.

Cody shook his head. “He says not unless he 'has reason to', which either means he's saving Appo as a backup in case the three of us all die—or he's going to hold him over our heads as a safety-net for disownment.” He rolled his eyes. “Possibly all of the above.”

Obi Wan raised his eyebrows. “And how does Appo feel about all of that?”

Cody shook his head. “You'd be better than I at determining that, Ben. I just met him today. But he seemed mostly content with everything—I think he was happy to get a job.” One side of his lips curved upwards. “We made him a guard, by the way. He has some kind of combat training already, and he's hale and healthy—it should be a good fit.” He smiled warmly at Obi Wan. “I'm gonna try to get a sparring session in with him, see what he's got. I might have to fight Rex for first go, though.”

“I think maybe...” Obi Wan shifted a bit, rolling his shoulders against stiffness as he stretched out his Force senses across the castle grounds. He shot Cody a sympathetic look. “Rex might just be sparring with him right now.”

Cody sat up straight. “Are you sensing that with the Force?”

“Rex is in the practice yard,” Obi Wan admitted. “Engaged in what I can only guess to be a sparring session with someone I don't recognize.”

“Why that slimy, good for nothing...” Cody stood up. He reached for Obi Wan's hand, and Obi Wan took it. Cody tugged Obi Wan to his feet. “Come on, I've got to introduce you to one of my brothers and kick another one's ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I wrote this story back in 2018 without realizing it was November until I was already several thousand words in. I had 50k in two weeks and finished the very last word of the 80k draft just before midnight on November 30th. I won NaNo by accident and then it took me all this time since to complete the editing/beta process. Anyway, in case any Codywan shippers are still around, here's the fic three years late. Sincerely hope you enjoy.


	2. Disaster or Miracle

It turned out the unrecognized Force signature in the practice yard was in fact Appo. Grinning from the rush of friendly combat, he swiped sweat off his brow as he nodded in Obi Wan's direction. He really did look strikingly like his brothers.

“And _this_ is Lord Obi Wan Jinn,” Cody continued, gesturing grandly to Obi Wan, “Count of Kenobi, heir to the duchy of Stewjon, Jedi Knight, and my most trusted confidant and oldest friend.”

Looking a little overwhelmed, Appo mumbled, “That's, um, a lot of titles.”

Just as Rex cut in saying, “Hey! Shouldn't _I_ be your oldest friend? You certainly met me before you met him!”

“We're not actually friends right now,” Cody informed him with a disdainful glance.

Laughing, Rex punched Cody in the shoulder. “I know you wanted to spar with him first, but you were busy talking politics with your 'most trusted confidant' there.” He gestured to Obi Wan then shrugged. “And Father told me to get out of his sight.”

“You're lucky he didn't put you in the stocks,” Cody told Rex with a glare.

Rex shot Obi Wan a worried look. “Are _you_ angry with me, Obi Wan? About Anakin, I mean.”

Obi Wan shook his head. “Years of experience have taught me that nothing can dissuade my brother once he's put his mind to something.” Even a prison cell might not have held him. He was really that powerful.

“Do you just have one brother, then, uh...?” Appo trailed off, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He grimaced. “I don't actually remember...”

“You can call me Obi Wan,” Obi Wan helpfully supplied. “Sorry the introduction got a little interrupted. And yes, just the one brother, thank the Force.”

“Shouldn't it be 'Lord' Obi Wan?” Rex put in, a teasing smile dancing about his eyes.

Obi Wan rolled his eyes. “Neither of you call me 'Lord' anything.” Even though Cody just technically _had_ —but they only said the 'Lord' part when they were being formal.

“We do outrank you,” Rex pointed out, just to be cheeky—

—Just as Appo was saying, “I'm not highborn. I can...say 'Lord'.”

“You were acknowledged just today,” Rex said, stepping closer to Appo and giving him a considering look. “That makes you nobility as well.”

Appo shrugged. He shifted from one foot to the other again. “I wasn't born into it, though.”

“You should be glad of that!” Rex punched Appo in the arm. “Being born into nobility isn't as great as you might think.”

“You're actually royalty, Rex,” Obi Wan reminded him.

“Fine!” Taking a step back, Rex motioned from Obi Wan to Appo. “Tell him how awful it is being noble, then, Obi Wan.”

“It...” Obi Wan grimaced. “It's quite challenging, most days.”

“I'm...” Appo grimaced as well. “Sort of getting that.”

Rex clapped Appo on the back. “Regretting this already?”

Ducking his head, Appo shook it. “Nah.” He shrugged. “It's...kind of nice to have brothers, I think?”

“And you haven't even met Boba yet!” Rex pointed out. “He's only eleven. He's adorable.”

“Don't let him hear you say that!” Cody warned with a chuckle.

“He's in bed by now,” Obi Wan said, then frowned. The evening air was cool against his skin and the flicker of many torches lit the yard. “I hope.”

“He is,” Rex confirmed. “I sent him to bed. He asked for you, actually.” He nodded to Obi Wan. “But I told him you and Cody were busy with boring political stuff.”

“He must not have been too happy to hear that,” Cody commented.

“Rolled his eyes,” Rex confirmed with a sage nod. “Anyway.” Turning to Cody, Rex continued, “Since you're here now, Codes, why not go a few rounds with Appo? He's exhausted from a long day, and I just kicked his ass, so you might just be able to beat him.”

Obi Wan, Appo, and the few watching guards laughed. Cody rounded on Rex. “I'd much rather kick your ass, Rex.” He cocked an eyebrow. “We both know I can do it, but I'm in the mood to show off.”

Rex spread his arms, saying, “I'm ready whenever you are.”—

—Just as Obi Wan confirmed, amused, “That's exactly why Cody came out here this evening.”

Cody winced, deflating a bit. “Unfortunately...I need to meet with the king again, and I believe I'm already keeping him waiting.” He turned a pained look from Rex to Appo to Obi Wan. “I'll catch up with all of you later.”

“By 'later' he means sometime tomorrow,” Rex explained as he watched Cody leave. “Though it might end up being the day after that.” Turning to Obi Wan, Rex added, “Though he'll see _you_ tomorrow, no doubt.” He shook his head, chuckling. “'Most trusted confidant'.”

Obi Wan rolled his eyes. “Would _you_ rather have that title, Rex?”

Holding up both hands, Rex took a step back as though afraid he might get burned. “Oh, hells no—it seems to be _far_ too much about responsibility and keeping the king happy.” He shuddered.

“Not just the king,” Obi Wan clarified. “All the nobles too.”

Rex grimaced, moving to stand next to Appo and linking arms with him. “I'm gonna stick with Appo. We'll be happy guardsmen, far, far away from all that political bullshit.”

“That sounds nice,” Obi Wan admitted with a small smile. The dust of the practice yard, warmed from the day's sun, teased at his nose.

“We'll let you play with us,” Rex offered. Turning to Appo, he added, “That's all right, isn't it? If we let the nice Jedi play 'guardsmen' with us?”

Appo looked from Rex to Obi Wan and frowned in confusion. “Isn't a 'Jedi' a sort of...wizard?”

“By the Force!” Rex pulled back to hold Appo at arm's length and look at him in amazement. “Have you never met one before?”

Appo shrugged. “Not that I know of.”

“Obi Wan!” Rex turned to him, expression excited. He gestured between Obi Wan and Appo with one hand. “Show him the thing!” The 'thing' most likely meant levitating something. That certainly was showy, at any rate. Sighing at the vague feeling of being reduced to the position of jester or fire-eater, Obi Wan drew on the Force, held out one hand, and lifted Rex a few inches off the ground. Rex laughed breathlessly. “All right, but lift _him_!” He waved a hand at the gaping Appo.

With a minute shrug, Obi Wan extended his other hand towards Appo as well. “As my prince commands.”

Appo made a soft shocked sound as his feet left the ground. “By the Force,” he whispered, eyes huge as he stared down at the ground.

“Exactly!” Rex laughed. “That's the Force that's got you right now.”

“It feels so strange,” Appo said as Obi Wan set the two of them back on the dirt.

“I love it,” Rex admitted. “I always tell Cody it's a shame he never went as far as Obi Wan here.”

“Is—?” A perplexed frown twisted Appo's features. “Is Prince Codex a Jedi too?”

“Nah.” Rex shook his head. “He trained at the Temple for a year and a half, but all he came out able to do was...” He turned a frown on Obi Wan. “Actually, what _can_ Cody do with the Force?”

“The Masters said it boosts his combat reflexes,” Obi Wan supplied. “And...he told me he can sense when Anakin is angry.”

Rex laughed. “Can't everyone do that?”

“Doesn't have to be in the same room, though,” Obi Wan clarified.

“And neither do I!” Rex laughed again. “I often hear him yelling from several rooms over.”

Obi Wan shook his head, an indulgent smile tugging at his lips. “That's been true since he was a baby.”

“So...Anakin is your brother, Lord Obi Wan,” Appo said, clearly still trying to catch up.

“He is,” Obi Wan confirmed.

“Sorry.” Appo ducked his head. “I'm not from, uh, your duchy?”

“My father is Duke of Stewjon,” Obi Wan filled in helpfully.

“I'm from Coruscant,” Appo explained. “So I know Lady Mon Mothma and...the other Mothmas, I guess. I don't know much about other nobility.”

“That's all right,” Obi Wan said. It was unlikely Lady Mon herself could recite the Stewjon nobility off the top of her head.

“You'll catch up,” Rex added, giving Appo an encouraging clap on the shoulder. “You're here in the capital now; _everyone's_ important here.”

“About Lord Anakin...” A perplexed look twisted Appo's features—and maybe Cody was right: maybe he did look more like Rex. “What...um, happened with him?”

“He got married,” Obi Wan answered truthfully, though no doubt unhelpfully.

A frown danced its way across Appo's brow. “And...that's...bad?”

“It is the way he did it,” Rex said with a sigh. “Being noble is complicated.” He cast his gaze around the practice yard. “It's getting late, and since Cody ran off to do boring stuff, I guess we might as well clear out—it looks like maybe some of the other guards wanted a bit of space to spar before lights out.”

“We're fine just watching you!” one of the loitering guards called out.

Rex blew him a kiss. “Always happy to have admirers.”

“We like the Jedi better!” another guard called out, and the assembled group laughed.

Rex shook his head. “Sweep two grown men off their feet, and suddenly you're more interesting than the Crown Prince's twin brother.” He motioned for Obi Wan and Appo to follow him and led them into the guard barracks, where simple food and middling-quality alcohol waited atop a few of the round wooden tables. Obi Wan nodded acknowledgement to the kitchen staff who stood at the ready to clear away or replace things as needed.

The closest one jumped to attention. “Prince Rex! If you require anything from the kitchens—”

The second one chimed in, “We can fetch you whatever you like!”

Rex waved their excited concern away. “All this looks great.” He sat heavily in one of the plain wooden chairs and grabbed the nearest pitcher then motioned for Appo and Obi Wan to join him.

“I already ate with Cody,” Obi Wan said quietly as he took the indicated seat. It was nearly exactly the same as the chair he'd sat on when he had dinner with Cody; the simple sort made for kitchens and barracks, not the more elegant style of the ones in his parlour. Or Cody's parlour for that matter.

“Or course you did.” Rex sloshed a generous amount of alcohol into a mug. The metal of the mug made a hollow sort of scraping against the wooden surface of the table as Rex pushed it towards Obi Wan. “And now you're drinking with me.”

“This food really does look great,” Appo said as he settled into the chair on the other side of Rex.

“See?” Rex flashed a grin at the waiting kitchen staff, giving them a thumbs up. Turning to Appo he added, “Go ahead and get used to it; guards get the best food. Be glad you're not a scribe—scribe food is awful.”

“Scribes eat whatever they ask for from the kitchens,” Obi Wan pointed out, taking a sip of the liquor and wincing at the harsh burn.

“And they all have terrible taste, apparently,” Rex countered, ripping a hunk of bread off the loaf. “I've seen what they eat.”

“I can't actually...” Appo winced slightly. “...read or write.”

“Well now that you're a noble,” Rex told him, “you'll have to learn—we can't have illiterate nobility, or Naboo would look down on us.”

“Pretty sure Naboo already looks down on us,” Obi Wan admitted with a wry twist of his lips.

“Why would Naboo look down on us?” Appo asked, clearly confused. It really was that kind of day for him, apparently.

“Naboo has always had more of an artistic and scholarly culture,” Obi Wan clarified, the metal of his mug cool against his fingertips as he turned it slowly in his hands, “while Kamino is more focused on martial prowess. So there's a lot of mutual looking down, truthfully speaking.”

“So...” Appo swirled his drink around in the bottom of his mug. “We could take them in a fight.”

“Surely,” Rex said with a nod. “But we're not going to fight them—hopefully ever. Even though we'd win—and make no mistake, we'd win—there would be loss of life, serious injuries, destruction of both architecture and natural beauty, as well as countless wasted resources on both sides.”

“That...makes sense,” Appo said, expression thoughtful.

Rex flashed Appo a grin. “We'll make a proper noble out of you yet.”

“So...” Appo took a swallow of his drink. “I am a noble now.”

“That's right,” Rex confirmed.

Appo looked across the table at Obi Wan. “And Lord Obi Wan's a noble.”

“I am,” Obi Wan agreed.

Appo looked at Rex. “But you're royalty—and Cody and...Boba—they're royalty too. Even though you're my brothers?”

“Well,” Rex said, gesturing with his knife, “if the king were to legitimize you, then you'd be royal too, just like us. But for now, you're noble.”

Appo dropped his eyes to his plate. “That makes sense, I guess.” His shoulders twitched in a small shrug. “I don't think he's very likely to do that, anyway—as I understood it.”

“Well if I do something else to piss him off...” Rex laughed. “He might just legitimize you to replace me!” He leaned his forearms on the table. “But in all seriousness: you're right. You're going to be a noble—which is basically what Boba and I are, anyway. Cody's the one who inherits. For the rest of us 'royal' is effectively a pointless distinction.”

“You're in the line of succession, though,” Appo pointed out.

“Just second in line,” Obi Wan agreed.

“I am.” Rex nodded. “But since Cody is at _some point_ going to finally get married and have a few heirs of his own, the throne will never be mine. And trust me, I'm very content in that knowledge.” Rolling his eyes, he threw back a gulp of his drink. “He's just got to manage that getting married part.”

“That's...actually something else I'd like to know,” Appo said, shifting his knife and fork uncertainly. “Since I'm a noble now, I think it's important. How—?” He grimaced, then tried again, offering Rex and Obi Wan an expression of honest confusion, “There's a wrong way to get married?”

“When you're a noble...” Obi Wan sighed. “There are at least a hundred wrong ways.”

Rex waved an annoyed hand at Obi Wan. “To keep it simple for the new recruit: just remember that you can't marry anyone unless the king approves.”

“Oh.” Appo nodded. “That does keep it simple.” He shot Obi Wan a questioning look. “So your brother married without the king's approval?”

Obi Wan blew out a breath, sliding his mug back and forth a little on the rough surface of the table. “He married without anyone's approval.”

Appo took a swallow of his drink. “Who did he marry?”

Obi Wan glanced around at the quietly eager kitchen staff and loitering guards who'd apparently followed them inside to watch them eat. It wasn't every day a king's bastard showed up, though. Or that a duke's son eloped and threw the king into a rage. Rex, Obi Wan, and Appo drinking together may very well have been the most interesting thing the guards had seen in a while. No doubt their conversation was also especially interesting. Obi Wan sighed. It was one thing to natter away about his idiot brother making poor choices, and quite another to add 'The Queen of Naboo' into the gossip mix before Cody had a firm plan on how to handle the situation. “I don't believe I'm at liberty to say at this point.”

“Oh.” A small frown flickered across Appo's brow. “I guess being noble really is complicated.” After a beat, he asked, “Are you married, Lord Obi Wan?”

Obi Wan shook his head, and Rex snorted into his drink and cut in, “Only to Cody!” Laughing, Rex rubbed the splattered drink off his face. He nudged Appo and dropped his voice to something resembling a conspiratorial tone, “Just watch them for a few days, and you'll see what I mean.”

It wasn't exactly the first time Rex had made that particular joke at Obi Wan and Cody's expense. Obi Wan quietly pointed out, “Cody used to say the same thing about you and Anakin.”

Rex chuckled. “That he did. And once either you or Cody actually marries someone else, I'll stop ribbing you two, because clearly you'll have gone through a painful divorce and be inconsolably brokenhearted, and making fun of either of you in that state would be cruel.”

Obi Wan took a thoughtful sip of his drink. “I doubt Anakin's particularly brokenhearted at the moment.”

Rex put his hand to his heart, feigning sorrow. “And I thought what he and I had was _real_.” Bursting out laughing, he turned to Appo, shaking his head. “The problem is, he knows I'm just fooling—you gotta be careful of the Jedi tricks...he can spy inside your head and read your thoughts!”

“I can _not_ ,” Obi Wan groused. The common folk already believed enough rumours and superstitions about Jedi—they didn't need Rex's help coming up with reasons to be wary of anyone in a cloak. “I can sense strong emotions,” Obi Wan explained. “I can—usually—tell if someone is lying. And I can forge temporary Force links with other Jedi to communicate silently over distance. Sometimes—especially with a Jedi I know well and have linked with before—if they're tired or injured or sick, I can overhear some especially strong thoughts—but even then it's mostly emotions and vague impressions rather than actual words or sentences.”

Rex pushed his plate towards the middle of the table. “And you can do that thing where you know where everyone is all the time.”

“Usually if there is a threat nearby, I will get a warning through the Force,” Obi Wan clarified, “and if I intentionally reach out with my Force senses, I can discern the location of living beings in relation to myself and to each other, and recognize them if I've encountered them before.”

“That's how you knew I was sparring with Appo!” Rex slapped his open palm against the table. He pointed an accusing finger at Obi Wan. “You're his spy.”

Obi Wan shrugged, downing the last of the alcohol in his mug. “If you'd like to call it that.”

“That actually does sound like spying,” Appo commented. “Very useful though! I'm sure it helps a lot with...castle security.”

“It can,” Rex confirmed, giving Obi Wan a somewhat distrustful look. “But good luck doing any sort of secret sneaking about with a Jedi around.”

“Why...would I...?” Appo looked in confusion from Obi Wan to Rex.

“If you had a girlfriend,” Rex clarified. He shot Obi Wan a glare. “He'd know.”

“I...might be able to figure it out,” Obi Wan allowed. He had a pretty good idea about who among the castle staff was seeing whom. Sometimes the patterns just became obvious. Obi Wan shrugged. “Doesn't mean I'd tell anyone.” It wasn't even particularly interesting, really.

“Well, since I'm supposed to get the king's permission anyway...” Appo shrugged.

“Hey now.” Rex kicked the leg of Appo's chair. “Don't have to _marry_ everyone you snog, Appo!”

Appo blushed, hiding his face behind his mug. “Even so,” he finally said. “It seems kind of...cruel. To court someone without any intention to marry.”

“ _Not_ if you're upfront about it!” Rex explained. Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, he heaved a sigh. “They tell me this kid's _older_ than me by at least a few months, Obi Wan—can you believe it?”

Obi Wan shrugged. “I'd say his outlook is roughly equal in maturity to your own, Rex.”

Rex rolled his eyes. “Fine, be that way.” Standing up, he looked around at the other people in the room. He raised his voice enough for those in the room to hear him and said, “I'm likely not welcome in the castle main tonight, so I was hoping I could find a bed here—unless you're full up with the new recruit.” He patted Appo's shoulder.

“You can have my bunk!” a young guard called from the far corner.

Narrowing his eyes, Rex slid his gaze up and down the man's thin frame. “Will you be in it?”

“That, uh—” The poor man blushed to the very tips of his ears. “That depends on your preference, my lord.”

“Oh, be nice, Rex,” Obi Wan chided quietly.

“I intend to,” Rex told him, flashing a wicked grin and waggling his eyebrows before vaulting over a table to go talk to the young guard.

Appo looked after Rex, perplexed. “Is he...going to—?”

“I'd rather not think about it,” Obi Wan replied.

“I do have to sleep here tonight,” Appo pointed out quietly.

Shaking his head, Obi Wan blew out a breath. “They're not going to do anything in public; even Rex wouldn't be so bold.”

“Oh.” A small ripple of relief washed over Appo's frame. He offered Obi Wan a weak smile. “That's...good.”

Obi Wan chuckled. That would be a rather unfortunate situation to be in, especially since Rex and Appo were brothers. That was part of the reason Obi Wan himself was holding off trying to contact Anakin. Not that Anakin would respond in the throes of passion or anything so salacious, but he never had been great at keeping his random thoughts out of the Force link, and at the moment Anakin likely had a few Obi Wan would much rather not overhear.

o0o

Obi Wan waited three days before trying to contact Anakin, and to his surprise, Anakin responded to his first attempt.

_Don't be so shocked, Obi Wan._ A clear sense of Anakin rolling his eyes. _I was wondering when you'd call._

_You've ignored Father's attempts_ , Obi Wan pointed out, perhaps a touch more defensively than necessary.

_He never tried at a good time_ , Anakin shot back, blithe and unconcerned.

Obi Wan rolled his eyes. _You could have tried reaching out to him, Anakin—at any time that was good for you._

_You'll forgive me,_ Anakin replied, _if I wanted to delay his tirade._

_Or maybe I won't_ , Obi Wan all but snapped.

A hazy sense of Anakin sitting up straighter. Worry. _Did something happen? Is everyone well?_

Obi Wan sighed and reached for calm again. _Everyone's well, Anakin. Worried, angry, annoyed, confused—but otherwise well. Gorse Bendak and Cliegg Lars want your county, and they're ready to fight each other for it._

_They can't have it_ , Anakin cut in. _You can tell the Starkiller I said 'no' very specifically to him and his pathetic little claim._

Obi Wan rolled his eyes again and sighed. As if Anakin could just say 'no' and that would be the end of Lord Gorse and Lord Cliegg's attempts at war. Restraining himself from breaking his meditation pose to pinch the bridge of his nose, Obi Wan breathed and reached for calm once again. _The king wants Mother to formally adopt me and disinherit you._

A long pause, and then an uncharacteristically hesitant Anakin asked, _Is that what you want?_

_No_ , Obi Wan sent with as much assurance of sincerity as he could. _And Mother doesn't want it either._ Obi Wan had spoken with Qui Gon again, and Shmi sent thanks through him for the letter. But things were tense. And to say Shmi 'didn't want' to disinherit her son was an understatement.

_Why is everyone suddenly so interested in Tatooine?_ Anakin demanded. _It's only a county and not a rich one at that. I don't understand, Obi Wan._

That was becoming clear. _Did you fall asleep during geography lessons?_

_A few times_ , Anakin replied, unapologetic. Probably smirking.

Obi Wan made the effort necessary to release to the Force the desire to slam his own head repeatedly into a wall. (There weren't any walls nearby, anyway, as he was seated in the middle of the room to meditate. The closest wall-like surface was the sturdy wooden side of his writing desk. But it would be just as unhelpful to slam his head against that.) _You married a Queen, Anakin._

_I...did notice._

Obi Wan sighed. _She outranks you, significantly. So when the two of you inevitably have children, do you know who then is set to inherit the county of Tatooine, land which has for many generations been part of the Duchy of Stewjon and the Kingdom of Kamino?_

After perhaps too long a pause, Anakin replied with a surprised, _Oh_ , followed by a burst of irritation. _But inheritance works differently here in Naboo. Padmé has an older sister, and yet Padmé's the one who's queen._

_Indeed_ , Obi Wan replied with a sigh. Naboo was well known amongst the Kamino nobility for 'doing things differently', what with their insistence that only women could hold land and their sometimes confusing yet perhaps convenient system of appointing an heir rather than the heir automatically being the eldest child. _But titles within Kamino, while they are still within Kamino, must pass by_ _ **our**_ _inheritance laws. So Tatooine passes to your eldest child._ Barring specific disinheritance, it was unavoidable.

A moment of quiet resignation, then, _Likely...the Crown Princess of Naboo._

_If you have a girl first_ , Obi Wan agreed. Because until such time as Padmé managed to produce two female children, it was generally assumed that her eldest daughter should inherit her kingdom. _If you have a boy first, or if you have a second daughter whom Queen Padmé feels is more fit to rule Naboo, perhaps things are a bit more stable,_ Obi Wan allowed, _however...I imagine Queen Padmé holds enough duchies to hand one to a son or to a daughter who is not her primary heir. In which case, Tatooine still passes from Kamino to Naboo._

_I...don't think that's why she married me_ , Anakin finally said, followed by a messy spill of clamouring thoughts and memories that Obi Wan tried very studiously to gloss over rather than examine in detail. Even if they were merely breathy declarations of love and impassioned kisses.

_Likely not_ , Obi Wan agreed with a sigh. Though, she was a queen, after all; it was unlikely she'd been allowed to sleep through many geography lessons in her time as Crown Princess, so she was most likely well aware of what she was getting along with Anakin's pretty face and roguish charm.

_Well it shouldn't matter to King Jango_ _ **or**_ _you_ , Anakin insisted, stubborn as ever. _Tatooine is_ _ **my**_ _land, and if it passes to my children, that's entirely acceptable by my estimation. Even if one of my children_ _ **is**_ _queen of Naboo. Who cares if your realms are smaller in a generation?_

_A great deal of people care_ , Obi Wan retorted, irritated. _Lord Gorse and Lord Cliegg might be stubborn, greedy glory-hounds, but they're acting on behalf of their people, many of whom would happily support a war for control of Tatooine—even if they must die in it!_

_You can tell both of those petulant slime-brains_ , Anakin shot back, _that if they're going to fight anyone for my county it'll be me._

_You would take your people to war?_ Obi Wan demanded. Tatooine barely had guards for Anakin's keep let alone a population from which to scrape up a functional army.

_I would take both Cliegg and the Starkiller at once_ , Anakin insisted. _Just the two of them versus me and my sabre._ And...barring disaster or miracle, Anakin would win that fight. And while Lord Cliegg likely had enough sense to back down from such a challenge, Starkiller was another matter—he'd earned that nickname by being a formidable fighter and probably thought himself a worthy match for someone Anakin's age. But Anakin was a Jedi Knight, the most powerful the Order had seen in all of recorded history. Everyone knew, of course, but Starkiller would see it as a challenge. A chance for even greater glory.

Obi Wan sighed. _You would kill two men for this?_

_To defend my county,_ Anakin replied stubbornly, _of course I would._

_The king might get involved_ , Obi Wan pointed out.

_The king's already involved if he's trying to pressure Mother into disinheriting me_ , Anakin snapped. _And if he tries to come for me or my county, Padmé won't sit idly by._

And of course she wouldn't; even if she felt little or nothing for Anakin, as a queen she'd fight to defend her children's inheritance. And relations between Queen Mother Jobal and King Jango had always been tense at best—no doubt the new queen held similar opinions, especially with her mother still serving as a trusted advisor.

But...all out war between Kamino and Naboo? The horror twisted cold in Obi Wan's gut. The death toll would be catastrophic. Perhaps Rex was indeed right: in the end, odds being in their favour, Kamino would stand victorious over a scorched landscape littered with corpses of soldiers and innocent bystanders alike. But Rex hadn't factored in Anakin. Rex wouldn't see Anakin as an enemy. And a Jedi Knight, as powerful as the sun and fuelled by rage, might just be enough to turn the tide of battle. Hells, Anakin might just win the entire thing for Naboo single-handedly; no one had ever properly tested the limits of his power. Finally Obi Wan asked, _Would you fight_ _ **me**_ _, Anakin?_

_Don't stand against me_ , Anakin warned, and something chilled deep in Obi Wan's core.

_We must find another option_ , Obi Wan insisted, twisting his thoughts away from the implications of Anakin's words. _Father and I are agreed on this: we must work towards peace._

_Work towards peace, then!_ Anakin replied, exasperated. _Have father make his counts sit down and shut up._

_It might not be that easy_ , Obi Wan replied tiredly.

_Well it's not my job!_ Anakin shot back. _I'm only a count and that's all I'll ever be; you're the one inheriting a duchy. Figure it out, Obi Wan. Find your way to peace._

_May the Force be with you, Anakin_. Obi Wan pushed affection through the link, raw and a little desperate, but honest. _May the Force protect you._

_May the Force guide you and mark your steps_ , Anakin replied.

Perhaps that was the closest Anakin would get to hoping for peace.

o0o

“Cody, I fear—” Obi Wan's throat tried to close over and he shook his head.

Cody was out of his chair at once and crossing his office to take Obi Wan by the elbow and steer him towards the couch. “Sit, Ben.” Obi Wan sat, dazed. Cody pressed a cup of wine into his hands, but Obi Wan just stared down at it rather than lifting it to his lips. The wine was red, looked too much like blood. He set it aside. Cody forced a chuckle, settling next to Obi Wan and squeezing his arm. “How bad is it that you're turning down a drink?”

Obi Wan put his head in his hands. “Anakin...might make everything worse.”

Cody sucked in a slow breath then let it out. “You've talked to him.”

Obi Wan nodded. “Just now.” He worried his lower lip a bit, staring blankly at the spiralling patterns on the carpet. “He hadn't even realized, actually, that his marriage—what it would do to the succession of Tatooine.”

“That's...not entirely surprising,” Cody commented.

That earned a weak chuckle. But Obi Wan had to get this out, as hard as it was to say. Cody needed to know. “I explained it, though, and he...” Swallowing painfully, Obi Wan shook his head. “He became angry and—he's willing to fight to keep his county, no matter the cost. He won't give it up.”

“Lady Shmi will have to disinherit him,” Cody said, sitting up straighter. “You could make her see reason, Obi Wan.”

Obi Wan shook his head. “I could, but it wouldn't help—he—” Obi Wan shook his head, swallowing painfully once again. “Cody, he said he'd fight _me_ for it; he warned me not to stand in his way.”

Cody's hand tightened on Obi Wan's arm. “He'd fight his own brother?”

“I fear he might.” Obi Wan let out a shaky breath. “We know he's never been entirely stable. And—” Obi Wan wet his lips. “He threatened to have his new queen bring all of Naboo against Kamino.”

“Hells,” Cody breathed, a small shudder running through him.

“I don't know what to do, Cody,” Obi Wan admitted. “I keep telling myself he'll calm down, that he didn't mean it—but what if he did?”

Cody pulled Obi Wan into a tight hug for a moment, then pulled back, looking at him with sadness and worry. “I need you to do something for me, Obi Wan.” Obi Wan gave a shaky nod. He would do nearly anything for Cody. A sad sort of gratitude glowed in Cody's eyes. “Draw on the Force or whatever you need to do to be calm for a little while; I need you to answer some questions for me to the best of your ability. It's important.”

Obi Wan tried. This was important. Cody was important. Holding tight to Cody's hand helped at first, and then he felt the calm wash over him and he could breathe.

Beaming at him, Cody breathed, “You're amazing.”

Obi Wan smiled, a little embarrassed. “Thank you.”

Seriousness replaced the joyous wonder in Cody's face, and he held Obi Wan's hands tight in both of his own. “You haven't had a lot of time to get to know him, but what's your impression of Appo? Is he sincere?”

“My impression...” Obi Wan said, a little confused that this was the first question, but if Cody felt it was important, then it must be. “...is that he's one of the most sincere people I've met. He's honest. He's got a strong moral compass and a desire to do the right thing.”

“Thank you,” Cody said. “That's...very helpful.” After a beat, “And what of Rex?”

“Rex?” Confusion flickered across Obi Wan's brow.

“If it came to a fight,” Cody said slow and deliberate, as though it was the only way he could get the words out, “whose side would he be on?”

“He...” Obi Wan shuddered with the effort to maintain calm, fingers tightening on Cody's as he released what he could to the Force. Finally, he shook his head. “I couldn't properly predict that, Cody. Rex truly loves you and adores Boba; he would fight to the death to defend you both, but if they were to come face to face in a fight he might just let Anakin kill him.”

Cody swore softly under his breath.

“I am sorry,” Obi Wan said.

Cody shook his head. “None of this is your fault.” Obi Wan didn't object, though it was possible some of the responsibility was his own to bear. For how he'd handled the conversation with Anakin. Or the sort of brother he'd been in general. “My—father,” Cody said next. “You don't know the queen of Naboo, but would King Jango willingly go to war with Naboo...over a county?”

Obi Wan was quiet for a moment, but the problem was that he knew the answer to that too well. Finally he said it aloud: “He would.”

“I concur,” Cody said, voice hard. “I suppose I can't exactly thank you for confirming my fears, but it is in fact helpful to know what your Force senses tell you.” Obi Wan gave a short nod. Cody paused, regarding him. “The Jedi Order—would they interfere in any way?”

Obi Wan sighed, wanting to run a hand through his hair but wanting less to free a hand from Cody's. “The Jedi keep the peace. The Order doesn't choose sides; the side is already chosen, and that is the side of peace, of protecting life. The Masters are barred from politics.”

“Which is why you're only a Knight,” Cody put in.

Obi Wan nodded, because it was true. He could have been a Master, easily, if he was willing to give up all titles and denounce his family name. “My father as well, could have been a Master.”

“Not Anakin?”

Obi Wan raised his eyebrows, breathing deep. “Anakin has the power, surely, but being a Master is about discipline much more than power.”

Cody nodded. “And discipline has never been your brother's strong suit.”

Obi Wan snorted softly, shaking his head. “Not in the slightest.”

“Obi Wan,” Cody said, looking at him intently, “if you were to call for the Order's aid—would they respond?”

Obi Wan blew out a breath. “I suppose that depends on how dire the situation appeared. If it was just a couple of minor counts squabbling and posturing over whose meagre claim to a sandy strip of land was more legitimate, they'd very much expect my father and myself to handle it.”

“Understandable,” Cody said.

“But if Anakin were leading Naboo against Kamino?” Obi Wan suppressed a shudder at the thought. “They'd come—we might not like what they'd do, but they'd come.”

Cody frowned. “What do you think they would do?”

“At that point...” Obi Wan blew out a breath. “They've always been wary—and understandably so—of Anakin and his power, especially when that power is coupled with his volatile personality. They would—rightly, I suppose—see Anakin as the biggest threat to peace and life, and attempt to take him down. The goal would be to subdue, not to kill. But in all honesty, he might not give them any other choice.” He worried his lower lip. “And, Cody? We've never tested the upper limits of Anakin's power. If he's truly backed into a corner, he might lash out in ways we never imagined. The Force... There are some writings in the Temple library, accounts of Jedi who succumbed to the Dark. The details were often left out for fear that others might attempt the specific techniques, but...the accounts are clear on the effects, on the death toll.” Obi Wan winced. “And none of those Jedi were approaching Anakin's level of raw power.”

“I see,” Cody replied.

Obi Wan closed his eyes for a moment. “Anyone else?”

“Your father,” Cody said, because of course that was coming.

“My father would never fight his own son,” Obi Wan said.

“But if Anakin came against _you_ ,” Cody pressed.

“He would try to stop it,” Obi Wan explained. “He would put himself bodily between us if need be. But he'd never raise his hand to either one.”

“And if the king ordered him to fight Anakin or his troops?”

Obi Wan shook his head. “He would walk away.” Obi Wan dropped his gaze to their joined hands. “I'm sorry, Cody, but if this comes to war... My father would fight and kill his own counts if they gave him no choice, but if it's Anakin?” Obi Wan shook his head again. “Kamino will have no help from Qui Gon Jinn.”

Cody sighed. “I feared as much.” After a pause he added, “And yourself, Ben? Who would you fight?”

Obi Wan lifted tear-filled eyes to meet Cody's. “I love my brother,” he began, voice rough. “I would fight, and kill, and die to protect him. I would stand between him and the world.” He closed his eyes for a breath, and a few tears escaped, painting gentle tracks down his cheeks. “If the Jedi Order came for him, I'd stand between them and him, damn all reason.” He drew a breath and let it out. “I would not trust them not to kill him; I would not trust him not to force their hand.” Opening his eyes, he met Cody's gaze once again. “But if he came after you or Rex or Boba, I would stand between him and you. I would do anything in my power to protect you.”

Leaning forward a bit, Cody brought their foreheads together. His thumbs stroked soothingly at Obi Wan's fingers. “You are the only person I can trust in this whole thing, Ben. You are the only one who's truly and fully on my side.”

Obi Wan let out a damp laugh, more tears sliding their way down his face. “I feel the same way—you're the only one I can truly trust.”

Cody pulled Obi Wan closer, pressing Obi Wan's head into the sturdy bulk of his shoulder and shifting closer on the couch so he could wrap his arms tightly across Obi Wan's back. The Force sang all about them. This was right, this was good. This was the bond that mattered more than any other. Obi Wan shuddered, so grateful for Cody's supporting presence, for Cody's sturdy frame to lean upon. Cody let Obi Wan weep for a while, sliding fingers through his hair and whispering, “Oh, my love, we'll get through this. Together. We'll find a way.”


	3. Trust

Obi Wan woke in the early hours of morning, pressed face-down on top of Cody. It took a few bleary moments to understand that they were still on the couch, though Cody had at some point laid down and now had his neck resting at an awkward angle against the couch arm. “By the Force, Cody,” Obi Wan complained as he nearly fell off and then finally just intentionally slid down to sit on the carpet.

“Ben?” Cody slurred blearily, blinking a bit and reaching out with one hand to find Obi Wan's in the dim predawn light, the candles having burnt out at some point.

“I'm not entirely sure of the hour,” Obi Wan said dryly, “but I think it's about time both of us were in bed.”

“We, uh—” Cody winced as he sat up, his other hand going to rub at his neck. He grimaced. “Were asleep.”

“That couch isn't large enough for even one of us,” Obi Wan pointed out, pushing himself up to stand. “Let me fix your neck.”

Cody turned obediently to give Obi Wan access. “Like it when you do that,” he mumbled.

“And your cunning plan finally comes to light,” Obi Wan snarked with amusement as he drew on the Force and slid his fingers down from the base of Cody's skull to his collar, channelling healing and pain-relief into Cody's flesh. Cody let out a relieved grunt. “Better, then?” Obi Wan checked.

“Much,” Cody confirmed, reaching back to catch Obi Wan's hand and give his fingers a squeeze. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Obi Wan replied, yawning somewhat inelegantly.

Cody stood up suddenly and Obi Wan didn't quite step back, and they were so very nearly pressed together that their noses bumped against each other. Cody caught Obi Wan by the shoulders to steady him. “Goodnight,” he mumbled. He was likely aiming for Obi Wan's forehead but his lips found an eyebrow instead.

It was goofy and ridiculous, but Obi Wan couldn't quite find it in him to laugh. Instead he just replied, “Goodnight.” And then when they parted at the office door, “Sleep well, my prince.”

o0o

Cody ambushed Obi Wan in his chambers that morning—proper morning this time—with breakfast. Fully dressed and groomed while Obi Wan had all but just rolled out of bed. And likely looked it too. Obi Wan _had_ cleaned his teeth, though. And had just been about to send a page to the kitchens to fetch his breakfast. But here Cody was one step—or maybe ten steps, depending on how he counted—ahead of Obi Wan.

“You seem awfully chipper,” Obi Wan commented with a yawn as he took the seat across the small parlour table from Cody, “for someone who spent half the night stacked on a narrow couch under another man.”

“Maybe that's _why_ I'm chipper,” Cody teased, pushing the pitcher of milk towards Obi Wan.

Rolling his eyes, Obi Wan poured the milk over his oatmeal, watching as it mixed with the honey and diverted into little swirly streams around the fruit. “I'm just—” Obi Wan yawned again and gave his head a quick shake. “Just not sure why you seem to have so much energy, when I must have crushed the air and blood right out of you.”

“You don't weigh _that_ much,” Cody countered, nudging one of Obi Wan's feet under the table. Obi Wan weighed less than Cody, at any rate. That much was true. He still wasn't quite underweight for a fully grown human. And fully grown humans did not typically sleep stacked. “And I'm sturdy,” Cody added. That was also true.

“Well, I just...wouldn't make a habit of it, I guess.” Obi Wan poked at his porridge with his spoon. “No matter what Rex might do in the barracks.”

“Is Rex really sleeping in the barracks?” Cody asked with a little laugh. He took a bite of his porridge and made an appreciative sound.

“Pretty sure he spent one night there, at least,” Obi Wan replied, taking a slow bite of his own food. It really was quite nice. He hadn't known the kitchens even had apricots this time of year, and yet here they were smiling up at him from his breakfast bowl. “And rumour has it,” he continued, “that he spends each night in a different man's bed—stacked, supposedly, since the beds are so narrow.” Obi Wan gestured with his spoon. “Like we were last night.” Though that was...likely different, somewhat.

“So that's where you got the idea,” Cody commented, scooping up a spoonful of oatmeal.

Obi Wan snorted. “So now it was _my_ idea?”

Cody took a swallow of his tea and tilted his head to one side. “I'm pretty sure that's what 'too tired, don't wanna move, sleep here' means, Ben.”

“I...” Obi Wan deflated a little. “Did I really say that?”

“Am I lying?” Cody asked. The words should have been a challenge, but he said them calmly.

“No,” Obi Wan admitted, deflating even further. “You're not. I just—” He winced. “I have no memory of saying that. I must have been asleep already.” He grimaced and gave his head a shake. “You should have _made_ me go to bed—I ended up hurting your neck.”

“Hey, hey.” Cody reached across the small table to catch Obi Wan's hand. “It's fine.” He stroked his thumb across the back of Obi Wan's hand. “You fixed my neck—it feels better than it has in weeks.”

“That's...probably why you're so chipper this morning.” Obi Wan chuckled softly. “Now that I think about it.”

“That's a good point,” Cody agreed, finally releasing Obi Wan's hand and going back to eating. “I suppose I should ask you to do that more often.”

“I suppose you should,” Obi Wan agreed, trying to eat more of his food and getting the strangest feeling he was missing something. Perhaps this was some sort of essentially unhelpful Force premonition. Like the one he got before the first time Anakin climbed all the way to the top of Jinn manor and jumped off. (He wasn't hurt, but he damn near gave Shmi a heart attack.) Obi Wan had finally opened his mouth to ask if there was anything else he'd said or done the previous evening that he might not remember when a sharp rap came at the door, and Cody leapt up to answer it.

It was a guard with a summons for Cody from the king.

“I am so sorry,” Cody said, striding back to the table. “I knew I couldn't stay long—I should have warned you.” Leaning in, he managed to press a kiss to Obi Wan's forehead this time, and Obi Wan had to smile.

“Duty calls,” Obi Wan said.

“Yes, always,” Cody replied, pulling back with an apologetic grimace. “Regrettably.”

“We should take a day,” Obi Wan said as Cody drew back further. “Just the two of us, like old times.” They'd been seeing each other mostly for work for far too long. It had been weeks since they'd had any time to really breathe.

“Yes! Absolutely!” Cody beamed at Obi Wan as he walked backwards towards the door. “I'll...I'll find a day; I'll make it work. You are _so_ important to me.”

“And you to me,” Obi Wan agreed, just as the door closed, but he didn't say it quite loud enough to be sure that Cody heard.

o0o

Three days since that morning, and Obi Wan hadn't so much as caught a glimpse of Cody in the hallways. Cody was holed up with the king—and often Rex, now—from early mornings until well after lights-out.

They were either trying to prevent a war or preparing for it—or more likely both at the same time. Obi Wan did not need to 'spy' to know all he needed to know about what went on in those closed chambers.

Obi Wan had painstakingly gone through all of his written correspondence and replied to everything, sent a general 'check in' message to his steward Lady Arfour and then one to Anakin's steward for good measure. Sent careful, diplomatic missives to Gorse Bendak and Cliegg Lars. Sent warm congratulatory messages to both Queen Padmé and her mother—and then one to her sister.

Sometimes pretending everything was normal helped make things feel a bit more normal for everyone. And being diplomatic couldn't hurt. He thanked the Force for the extra diplomacy lessons the Temple had drilled into his adolescent mind. And for the years he'd lived at court in Tipoca, experiencing political manoeuvrings up close.

Obi Wan told three silly bedtime stories to Boba, all of which were in turn pronounced his worst one yet.

And each time Obi Wan repeated the offer to come again, should his young prince desire.

Late afternoon of the fourth day, Qui Gon's voice spoke in Obi Wan's head: _We need to talk._

o0o

“Obi Wan!” Cody stood up from behind his desk, an eager smile breaking on his face like the dawn. “Come in!”

Obi Wan lowered his hand from where he'd been about to knock on the open office door and returned Cody's smile with a soft one of his own. “I'm glad I caught you.”

“As am I,” Cody agreed as he strode across the room to pull Obi Wan inside from the echoing quiet and flickering torchlight of the nighttime hallway. Pulling Obi Wan into a tight hug, he whispered into his hair, “How I've missed you.”

“I've missed you too,” Obi Wan replied truthfully, a pang of guilt slicing through his heart as Cody pulled back to smile at him. “Cody, I—” Sighing, Obi Wan squared his shoulders. “My father's called me home; I leave at first light.”

Unhappiness washed over Cody like a douse of cold water. He regarded Obi Wan with sad, confused eyes. “Why?”

“Political things.” Obi Wan grimaced. There were a lot of reasons. Obi Wan might not like it, but it made sense. “With so much unrest in the realm, he wants me close.”

“Ah.” Cody dropped his gaze. “I suppose...that makes sense.”

“I just wanted to let you know,” Obi Wan said, pulling back a bit. It was late, and he should probably get some sleep.

“First light, you said?” Cody frowned, sadness pulling lines around his dark eyes.

Obi Wan nodded. “I need to make good time to be there before dark.” He grimaced, pulling back further. “So I need to get to bed, get a few hours' sleep.”

“Please!” Cody caught at him, pulling him further into the room. “Stay just a little while. Have a drink with me?” He offered Obi Wan a hopeful smile. “I know it's late, but—”

“I want to,” Obi Wan admitted. He didn't exactly want to leave at all, much less leave without a proper goodbye. He sighed. “I do want to.”

“Have a drink with me,” Cody tried again, “and when you leave you can take my horse. She's faster than yours, and would more than make up the time if you oversleep a bit.” Obi Wan considered it. Cody's horse wasn't just fast, but also sturdy and hardy. She could certainly help with the journey, and it was quite the honour for Cody to offer. “Indulge me a little, Ben,” Cody said quietly, stroking his thumb over the inside of Obi Wan's wrist. “I don't know when we'll have the chance again.”

They'd planned to take a day together. And now, without exactly any choice in the matter, Obi Wan was backing out. Or at least asking Cody to wait the Force only knew how long. Obi Wan chewed the inside of his cheek a little. What could an hour or two hurt? Lifting his gaze, he offered Cody a smile. “One drink?”

Cody grinned brightly in response, tugging Obi Wan over to sit on the couch and laughing. “However many drinks you want.”

o0o

Obi Wan awoke to the dusty smell of straw prickling his nose. The rough feel of simple cloth against his face. Cool air on the back of his neck like the drafts he never felt unless he forgot to close his bed-curtains in early spring or late fall. But he wasn't in his bed. He was face down on a prickly straw-stuffed pallet. And he wasn't even in his chambers.

He tried to push himself up, and was greeted with a familiar voice saying, “Easy, easy,” as a familiar hand touched his shoulder. “Easy, Ben.”

“Cody?” Obi Wan blinked in confusion. The figure crouching next to the pallet on the stone floor had Cody's face. Cody's voice and hair and gentle, worried eyes. But it wasn't— Obi Wan blinked, swallowed and blinked again. It wasn't—anyone. Obi Wan gave his head a shake. This wasn't right. None of this was right. He felt as though he were at the very bottom of a very deep well, dark and alone where he could scream for days and no one would hear him. The Force glimmered at the very edges of his perception, but it was far away, unreachable. “Cody?” he tried again, searching the other man's face.

“Yeah,” he finally said with a broken little laugh. “Not Rex or Appo. It's me.”

Obi Wan finally got himself into a stable sitting position on the pallet and ran a tired hand over his face. His flesh felt puffy and vaguely numb from his face to his fingers and toes. His head felt as though it might start hurting if it ever caught up with the present. “What happened?” He cast his gaze around in confusion. The tiny room held very little besides the pallet on the floor—just a simple wooden shelf on one wall for a table with a simple wooden bench, and in one corner a simple privy sat next to a crude washbasin and a bare shower. The only door—stalwartly closed—seemed to be thick, reinforced wood with a tiny barred window. “Where are we?”

Sighing, Cody sat on the cold stone floor next to the straw pallet. “I don't actually know what to say.”

“Do you know where we are?” Obi Wan tried again, because Cody had been fully awake when Obi Wan first roused. Surely he must know at least some small thing more than Obi Wan himself.

Resting his elbows on his knees, Cody clasped his hands in front of his lips. Eyes moving to Obi Wan he asked, “How do you feel?”

“Awful,” Obi Wan admitted with a frown. That about summed it up, after all. Shifting a bit, he looked down at his hands in his lap. “I can sense the Force, Cody, but I can't touch it. I don't understand.”

Cody flinched just a little and the torchlight painted gloss on his black hair as he shoved one hand back through it. “It's not permanent.”

“It's—” Obi Wan frowned again. None of this made sense. He shook his head. “Where are we? I need to see my father—he'd be able to help, I think.” If not him, then the Masters at the Temple, surely.

Cody shook his head. “You can't leave.”

“What do you mean?” Obi Wan demanded. Maybe this whole thing was a terrible dream. Maybe that's why Cody didn't feel real. But...Obi Wan had never had a dream like this. It didn't exactly feel dream-like. He shot Cody a glare for being so unhelpful. “Cody, where _are_ we?”

“We're in the tower,” Cody finally said, voice quiet. “You're safe. No one will hurt you.”

“The tower!” Tipoca castle did have a 'tower'. Obi Wan had never found reason for so much as a curious tour, but he was aware that in addition to some defensive features it held a few seldom-used cells. On one occasion when Rex was being insubordinate, King Jango had half-jokingly threatened to throw him in one for a while to cool off. “Cody,” Obi Wan tried again, “what _happened_?” He reached for Cody's arm, but Cody flinched away, and Obi Wan pulled his hand back and curled in on himself a bit. “Sorry,” he said, unsure what he'd done wrong.

“The king ordered your arrest,” Cody said dully, eyes staring blankly at the far wall. “The king required some assurance that neither your father nor your brother would bring an attack against us here. I needed a way to prevent you being injured.”

“I don't remember...” Obi Wan frowned. How could he have forgotten being arrested?

“I drugged your drink,” Cody explained flatly, continuing to stare at the far wall. “Last night.”

“That was...” Obi Wan shook his head again, though it did nothing to clear the fog.

“You just woke up,” Cody continued, voice quieter now. “It's nearly suppertime. I was worried we'd given you too much, or that together they'd been too much.”

“Is that why—?” Things finally started to click into place in Obi Wan's head. There was a herb, the sort of thing of which Jedi spoke in hushed tones. It cut off a person from the Force for a time. But it was rare and all but illegal in most of the civilized world. A Jedi would live their entire life without encountering it; it wasn't the sort of thing the Temple spent class time explaining in detail. It wasn't something with which a Jedi would ever have to contend. “You drugged me,” Obi Wan said aloud.

“I'm sorry,” Cody said, quiet and almost matter of fact. As though it was a duty to perform.

“How many drugs did you give me?” Obi Wan asked, because Cody had said 'they' and 'together'.

“Two,” Cody replied.

“You gave me,” Obi Wan forced the words out, voice hard, “that accursed herb. Without warning.” Cody gave a small nod, staring at the far wall. “ _Why?_ ” Obi Wan demanded, body trembling.

Cody sighed and turned tired, sorrowful eyes on Obi Wan for a moment then turned his gaze back to the wall. “We couldn't risk you contacting your father or brother. The king insisted on the herb.”

“Oh, great job!” Obi Wan ran his fingers over lips that felt dull and heavy. “Now when they next try to reach out to me, they'll think I'm dead.” The Force only knew what Anakin might do given reason to suspect his brother was dead.

Cody shook his head. “First thing this morning the king sent out couriers to inform both of them that you're safe and healthy, held here as a hostage until further notice.”

“Hours before you were even sure I'd wake up,” Obi Wan snapped, hugging his arms around himself. The room really was too drafty. But then it hadn't exactly been designed with comfort in mind.

“What should we have done, then?” Cody snapped back. “Let your brother chance into trying to contact you, however unlikely that may have been, and have him come to the conclusion we'd murdered you and consequently carve a swath of death and fire across the land to bring all of Naboo down on us in glorious vengeance? Would that bring about your Jedi peace? Tell me, Obi Wan, with all your wisdom as a Jedi Knight: what _should_ we have done?”

“Something _other_ —” Obi Wan shot back, springing to his feet, breath shaky and hands trembling. “—than drawing me in with warm smiles and cajoling promises and gentle touches!” He pressed a fist to his mouth, tears welling in his eyes. “I _trusted_ you, Cody.”

“I know.” Cody watched him with sad eyes.

“Why did it have to be _you_?” Obi Wan retreated until his back hit the cold stone wall. He trembled all over.

“We weren't to let you leave,” Cody said tiredly. “That was the order. You—” His voice broke. He gave his head a quick shake. “You came to me to say goodbye.” Obi Wan sank down to a crouch, back pressed against the cold and unyielding stone behind him. “We thought you might,” Cody said quietly, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. “We hoped you might. I said you would—I _knew_ you wouldn't leave without goodbye. But Rex was the backup plan, in case I was wrong.” That stung as a second betrayal, that Rex was in on the plan, that Rex had said nothing. But Rex had already proved he was good at keeping secrets.

“How could you lie to me?” Obi Wan asked. He shifted his weight a bit against the wall. He blinked. “How _could_ you lie to me?”

“I think it helped,” Cody said quietly, “that everything I said was in fact true.”

Obi Wan shook his head. Technical truth was not how the Force worked; it worked on intent. “I should have sensed deception.” He didn't always. He'd just always held onto the desperate hope that he'd never _have_ to, with Cody.

“My intent was always to protect you,” Cody replied. “It's how—I made myself do it. I think that's all you should have sensed through the Force.”

“All I sensed...” Obi Wan shook his head then let it fall back against the wall with a dull thunk. “Affection.” Blinding and a little desperate. But that was Cody. “Sadness. A...yearning—desire to keep me close.” Obi Wan bit the inside of his lip and stared at his hands. “The bittersweet resigned sense of an ending, a parting. It was nothing I didn't expect. You lied...very masterfully, Cody.”

“None of that was a lie!” Cody protested.

“You used the sweeter truths to cover up the bitter one,” Obi Wan mused, worrying the edge of one of his sleeves with his fingers. “I suppose that's why it worked.”

“I needed to keep you safe,” Cody repeated.

“As you've said,” Obi Wan groused. “You so needed to keep me safe that you drugged me with substances that may or may not have rendered me permanently comatose and dumped my unconscious body in a drafty cell in your father's prison tower.” He shot Cody a disdainful glare that he might just have deserved at the moment. “Good job.”

Cody curled in on himself a bit. After a moment where the only sounds in the cell were the crackling of the torch on the wall, the uneven dripping of the shower fixture, and their breathing, Cody finally said, “Do you want me to leave?”

Obi Wan glared down at his hands. “I suppose you'll have to at some point so I can use the privy and wash some of this sluggish 'I've just been drugged' feeling out of my body.” He twisted his lips unhappily, musing, “Assuming a shower would even help.”

“Did—?” Cody shifted as though preparing to stand. “Did you want to do that now?”

“What I _want_ ,” Obi Wan replied, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head thunk dully against the wall again, “is to wake up in my own bed and have this all have been just a terrible dream—I want to go home to my father and mother and give them both a hug and tell them how proud I am to be the Crown Prince's most trusted confidant, and how sad I am to have to leave you and how I wish I didn't ever have to be away from any of the people that I love. I want to eat a meal at my parents' table and reminisce about what a terror Ani was as a child, and I want him to drop by with his new wife and tell us all how excited he is to be a father because they're expecting a baby, and I want it all to be _fine_. I don't want anyone to be angry, or hurt, or scared.” He turned pleading eyes on Cody. “It shouldn't _be_ a problem; it shouldn't be 'wrong' to fall in love.”

“ _Ben_ ,” Cody whispered, and then he was at Obi Wan's side. He put his hand on Obi Wan's arm, and Obi Wan didn't quite flinch away, just tensed under the touch. “I agree,” Cody said. “I agree completely. You're right—you are the rightest person in the world. And if I could, I would give you all of that.”

“But for now,” Obi Wan said with sudden realization, “you're just going to give me more drugs.”

Cody pulled back. “We—we have to. For now.” He reached hesitantly for Obi Wan again. “Ben...”

Obi Wan jerked away, glaring at Cody. “Don't think you have the right to call me that right now.” He looked Cody over, allowing himself once again to take in just how _wrong_ Cody seemed when he couldn't _feel_ him. When he might as well have been a painting on the wall or a statue, for all that he felt like a real person. It could be Rex or Appo. Could be King Jango, even. Or a scarecrow. Or an assassin wearing a convincing mask. Finally, Obi Wan admitted, “I don't even know you.”

Cody pulled back further, eyes wounded. After a moment he said in a quiet, haunted voice, “I knew you'd hate me.”

“I don't _hate_ you, Cody,” Obi Wan snapped back. “I don't...” He paused, blinking and drawing a shaky breath. Maybe he should, by some logic, hate Cody. It would have been understandable to hate someone who'd done what Cody had. Hate wasn't the Jedi way, but it also just went against everything in Obi Wan himself. Maybe sometimes the Temple teachings didn't go against his natural inclinations after all. “I don't think I could.”

Cody shifted a little closer again, but didn't try to touch Obi Wan this time. “I did not see another way. I needed to protect you, to protect my family, and my people.”

“I _am_ your people!” Obi Wan snarled. “One of them, anyway. And I thought we were family too—I—” He shook his head with an angry scoff. “I'm closer to you than I am to my own brother. I don't know if there's a word for that, but I thought maybe 'family' would cover it.”

Closing his eyes, Cody took a slow breath. “I'm meant to be king, Obi Wan; I can't put one person or my feelings ahead of all of Kamino. No matter how special that person, or how deep and strong my feelings.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “That's actually...what they taught us at the Temple as well. I thought maybe you'd understand.”

“I do actually understand, Cody.” Obi Wan sighed, wrapping his arms tighter across his torso. “I understand the whole accursed plan; I see the logic.” At least, he was pretty sure he'd grasped the main points. “I know I'm a valuable hostage. I know I'm dangerous, in theory, if I'm allowed to wield the Force. I know the king has never liked nor trusted me. I know the queen has little use for me, and everyone from the grand nobles in other courts to the lowly peasants tilling the fields know I have your ear. I know my father is considered dangerous, because he's a powerful noble with a lot of land and vassals of his own, and he's never easily bent a knee or obeyed an order without question. I know my brother is the equivalent of an actual _dragon_ come back to rain uncaring destruction across the countryside, and no one—least of all me—has any idea how to leash him.”

“The king feared your father would take the unrest as an opportunity to bid for independence,” Cody admitted.

With an angry scoff, Obi Wan rolled his eyes. “Of course he did!” And to anyone who didn't understand just how committed to peace Qui Gon was, that would make sense, given everything else about the man and his 'I'll follow your rules if and when they suit me' reputation.

“I trust your judgment with regards to your father,” Cody said, leaning against the wall a few inches from Obi Wan, “but the king does not. He does not believe you are capable of being objective where your family is concerned.”

“Maybe I'm not.” Obi Wan rubbed at his forehead with one hand. This had been building for years, no doubt. Peace was always so tenuous, balanced atop an unsteady pile of pride, greed, strategic marriages, desperate hope, and mutually assured destruction. Anakin was the catalyst, the spark that set the whole thing rumbling.

“If you understand what I did and why I had to do it,” Cody said slowly, “why are you so angry with me?”

“Because you _didn't_ have to!” Obi Wan shoved a hand back through his hair and turned his gaze on Cody. “You didn't have to lie to me.”

“I don't understand.” Cody looked at him with confused, narrowed eyes.

Obi Wan closed his eyes and let out a breath through his nose. “I trust you, Cody, more than I trust my own father. If you'd put that drink in front of me and told me clearly what it was and said I had to drink it for peace, for the kingdom, for you—I would have done it. I wouldn't have liked it, but it would have been my choice and by my hand that I'm cut off from the Force. If you'd told me I couldn't leave, by the order of the king, that I was under arrest—I would have walked to the cell under my own power. I would have understood, Cody, and I would have done as you asked.”

“I thought that was possible,” Cody said after a pause. “Rex thought it was possible—he agreed it was possible, that you might go quietly. That you might, out of love for me, do anything I asked.” Shifting a bit, he rested one arm on his drawn up knee. “But the king wouldn't consider it. Too much was at stake to risk giving you even a moment to call out to your father or brother or the whole Jedi Order. _We_ needed to control any communication with the outside.” He worried his lower lip a bit, turning to look at Obi Wan. “And he doesn't quite approve of us, never really has, I suppose. He doesn't trust Rex's judgment at the best of times, and he doesn't trust mine at all where you are concerned.”

Obi Wan mulled it all over unhappily for a bit and then finally pointed out, “You could have gone against the king. You could have agreed to everything and then simply come to me and told me.”

“You think I don't trust you,” Cody said, sounding defeated.

“I think you trust _everyone_ a great deal less than I expected,” Obi Wan countered. “And I trust everyone far more than I should have.”

Pushing off from the wall, Cody quietly stood up. “I'll tell the kitchens to send you up some supper.” He put a careful hand on Obi Wan's shoulder. “Anything particular you'd like to eat?”

Obi Wan tried to brush Cody's hand away in annoyance but somehow ended up holding onto it instead. Still he said, “You're going to drug it all, anyway, so what difference does it make?”

And then finally let Cody's hand go.

o0o

“There was never a chance anything we gave you would be fatal,” Rex—it looked and sounded like Rex, anyway—began as he barged into Obi Wan's cell the next morning bearing a breakfast tray. “You weren't even at the point where the physician was concerned for your safety, and there _is_ an antidote for the sleeping draught which we _would_ have given you eventually if you hadn't woken up on your own, so you can stop accusing poor Cody of attempted murder.”

Obi Wan glared at Rex as he tried to sit up on the uncomfortable pallet, the smell of straw irritating his nose with the tickle of a not quite sneeze. He'd slept terribly and wasn't exactly ready for breakfast whatever the hour might be. But of what had he supposedly accused Cody? Blinking, he rubbed at his forehead, trying to remember the things he'd said the previous painful day. He'd been upset and not quite awake, but... “I don't think I actually said that.”

“Close enough,” Rex countered, plunking the tray down on the shelf-table and turning back to face Obi Wan. “Something about a possibility of a 'permanent coma', of course he'd interpret that as him trying to kill you, and don't pretend that's not exactly why you said it.”

“Does he just tell you everything now?” Obi Wan groused.

“Probably not,” Rex answered. “I'm sure there are some details I'd rather not know.”

Obi Wan rolled his eyes as he shuffled over to the washbasin to scrub the sleep off his face. “I said a lot of things yesterday.”

“And Cody isn't exactly in the frame of mind right now to properly defend himself.” Leaning against the edge of the table, Rex gestured to his chest. “I'm Rex, by the way. Cody warned me you might not recognize me, but I got all caught up in trying to defend him and forgot. Until just now.”

“I had guessed,” Obi Wan replied, hanging the towel back up next to the basin, “but thanks for clarifying.”

Rex didn't say anything as Obi Wan cleaned his teeth but showed no signs of leaving. He'd probably leave if Obi Wan asked him to, but then again he might not—he certainly wouldn't _have_ to. Obi Wan had no way of making him do anything. Obi Wan rinsed his mouth and spit in the basin and sighed, hands gripping the edge of it. Might as well see what they'd drugged for him this morning.

As he walked over to join Rex at the table, Obi Wan noticed a leather folder next to the breakfast tray. Obi Wan narrowed his eyes at it as he sat down. He poked it with one finger. “What's this?”

“Parchment and pen to write letters,” Rex informed him. “To you father and brother, to inform them that you are safe and well, and that we are not mistreating you.”

Snorting and shaking his head a little, Obi Wan pushed the folder a margin farther away. “You want me to lie.”

“The content of the letters is ordered by the king,” Rex confirmed, “to be written out in your own words and your own hand, read over by the king, and then sent out.”

Taking the lid from the breakfast tray, Obi Wan slammed it down on the table and demanded, “Just why are you so concerned about defending Cody, anyway? _I'm_ the one locked in a cell being drugged each day against my will.”

Rex watched Obi Wan with hard eyes for a moment, then said finally, “Because he's _scared_.”

Snorting in disgust, Obi Wan shook his head. He poked at scrambled eggs that looked passable but not exactly appetizing. “And how do you think I feel? Locked away from the world, from the very Force itself? Do you have _any idea_ how disconcerting that is? How long I laid awake last night trying to convince myself that no, the castle truly was filled with a multitude of living beings, most of them contentedly asleep, and no one had simply come and quietly killed you all while I was stuck in here and none the wiser?”

“Yeah, well.” Sighing, Rex slid down to sit on the bench, facing away from the table. “I can't do a thing about your situation.”

“From my perspective,” Obi Wan said as he poured fragrant and likely very drugged tea into a cup, “you have a great deal more options than I do.”

Rex heaved a sigh. “I suppose that's true.”

The eggs didn't even taste like eggs. Nothing tasted right. Even the fork had an off taste against Obi Wan's tongue. Maybe it was a side effect of the Force-dampening herb. Or the stress, or the lack of decent sleep.

Or maybe they just weren't very good eggs.

“I used to joke about it,” Rex commented after a while. “About you and Cody and this huge, painful, tear-filled divorce I _never_ thought I'd actually see.” He sighed. “It was a lot funnier when I was just making japes. It was hilarious to rib him, _especially_ when he was so over the moon just a few days ago—even more than he usually is, itching to ride off into the sunset and annoyed at everything that kept him from sharing every moment with you. I told him, 'Just wait until the honeymoon is over'. I thought that was funny.” Rex ran one thumb against his other hand. “Turns out there was nothing at all funny about Cody crying his eyes out in his chambers all night, convinced you could never love him—desperate and angry and hating himself.”

“I don't hate him,” Obi Wan said tiredly. He'd never said anything of the sort. Not even in anger.

“I know,” Rex replied, sounding about as tired. “He does more than enough of that for the both of you.” He looked at Obi Wan consideringly. “But you're angry.” A beat. “With him.”

Obi Wan rolled his eyes and stabbed a piece of egg with considerably more than necessary force. “And I'm going to remain angry for as long as you keep me locked away in here, so you'd might as well all just get used to it.”

Blowing out a breath, Rex looked away. “I know. And I don't blame you. I don't blame you in the slightest, and if Cody'd pulled the same shit with me that he just pulled with you—”

“Which you were also fully ready and willing to pull,” Obi Wan cut in.

“I wish I'd had the chance!” Rex insisted, gesturing emphatically with one hand. “Then you'd be angry with _me_ , and Cody could hate himself a little less.”

“I'm angry with you anyway,” Obi Wan pointed out.

“Fair enough.” Rex nodded. “I'd be angry with me too.” A frown. “I am angry with me—but anyway, as I was trying to say, if Cody had drugged me and I woke up in a cell, I'd be furious with him. So I don't blame you at _all_ for being angry.” He gave his head a shake. “Of course you're angry. I just—” he added, sounding lost “—I don't see a way to fix it.”

“Let me out of this cell,” Obi Wan said as calmly and as carefully as he could. “Let me eat and drink regular food until I can touch the Force again. Let me prove just what I can and will do when given a choice.”

“This was never my idea!” Rex protested, gesturing to his chest. “I hated it almost as much as Cody did.”

Pushing the tray of scraps and dirty dishes aside, Obi Wan turned towards Rex. “Anakin told me—himself—that he's fully willing to kill me if I get in the way of what he wants. What's to stop him from coming and burning this whole castle to the ground?” Obi Wan gestured, pointing one finger towards the floor. “He knows I'm inside, but he's counted my life in the pile of acceptable losses.”

Rex paled. “Anakin wouldn't—”

“ _I_ don't know that,” Obi Wan snapped back. “I've rocked him to sleep and kissed his scraped knees and been _in his mind_ , and I _don't_ know that.” He shook his head. “Anakin's a dragon, Rex. The kind with claws and fangs and wings—and breath that can level cities at a whim. I don't think he's the kind upon which you can put a collar and bring to heel; I think he's the kind you placate with offerings.”

Rex was quiet for a long while, and then finally said. “Maybe you're right.”

“Let me out of this cell,” Obi Wan tried again. “I can still be a hostage with the run of the full castle. Let me sleep in my own bed and use my own washroom.” They'd brought him some more clothes on the first night, along with his supper, a stack of extra blankets, and a small selection of books. His own clothes, so someone had gone through his personal wardrobe in his own chambers to find clothing. Jedi robes of course, since that was most of what Obi Wan owned. That felt a bit like an extra slap in the face. Though it was most likely unintentional. Everything else in Obi Wan's wardrobe were extremely formal things he'd appreciate wearing in a cell far less. But a proper privy and washroom with walls and doors that no one else was likely to walk through...how long could a person be expected to live without basic privacy? “This?” Obi Wan gestured around at the spare cell. “Is barbaric.”

Was what he was asking really so much? So unreasonable? Usually a noble hostage was kept on far more polite terms, as a 'ward' or 'squire' or even an 'honoured guest' who simply was not permitted to leave. Something settled cold in Obi Wan's belly. Maybe he'd been a hostage far longer than he knew.

Rex put his hand on Obi Wan's shoulder and sighed. “I'll see what I can do.”


End file.
